


La Tua Semplicita

by Novaviis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novaviis/pseuds/Novaviis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his death, Antonio and Rome watch over Lovino as he deals with the aftermath. Based on the song La Tua Semplicita by Josh Groban and Placido Domingo</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Tua Semplicita

**Author's Note:**

> Something I uploaded to my tumblr a while ago and thought I'd share here. I always thought this song was beautiful and that Josh and Placido's voices reminded me of Antonio and Rome. Just something that grew out of that.

“Lovino! Lovino, cariño, please, I'm right here! Lovino! Look at me!” 

Lovino was screaming. Guttural and desperate and angry and every heaved sob shot through him like a white hot blade. Antonio felt himself at a breaking point, cupping the Italian's face and peppering every inch with kisses in his own desperation to get him to stop crying. Lovino didn't react. His name spilled from his lips, “Antonio, Antonio, Antonio...” until it was indistinguishable from his uncontrollable sobbing. Antonio didn't know what to do. The last shimmering glow of his body faded from Lovino's lap, and although he knew what it meant, he refused to acknowledge it. 

He'd promised Lovino he'd never leave him. 

“Shhhh, Lovino it's okay, I'm right here, mi amor, mi querido, I- mierda!” He choked. This was terrifying. No matter what he tried, he didn't connect with this world anymore. Lovino was implacable, unmovable even as he carded his fingers through his hair and grazed his scalp in ways he knew always calmed him. He tried to move his head toward his chest, because he knew without saying that he liked listening to his heart beat, but Lovino didn't move, and his heart was still. Antonio gritted his teeth and tried to bury his face in the Italian's hair. “Lovino, please, just look at me...”

Lovino's eyes snapped open, red, swollen and glistening. For a moment, Antonio let himself believe he could see him, only to realize he was looking straight past him. Looking over his shoulder, he watched as Feliciano faultered at the end of the clearing, realized what had happened with widened eyes, and sprinted toward his brother. Moving on instinct, Antonio scrambled out of the way to avoid a collision, but even Feli passed by him, falling to his knees as Lovino collapsed into him. On his feet, Antonio watched, a sinking feeling telling him that was all he could do. 

“Antonio.” Thunder rolled overhead as a deep, rumbling voice echoed it from behind him. Antonio spun around, heart leaping with the hope that someone knew he was okay. His expression fell into one of dim understanding. He knew what this meant. 

Rome emerged from the shadows of the trees in all his ancient glory, stepping into the fading glow of the sun dipping over the sea behind them. The air charged with his presence, a Roman Soldier in his formal armor, a sword at his side and a helmet tucked under his arm; like he was preparing for a respected soldier's funeral. Antonio shook his head and took a step back. “I can't. He needs me.”

“It's too late.”

“I promised!”

“And you broke it.” Rome boomed, stepping forward with his chin high, his shoulders strong, and his eyes sympathetic. “I am sorry, but... you are dead. There is nothing you can do here.” As he spoke, the Ancient Nation approached his desperately grieving grandson and brushed his hand over his head without the hesitation of feeling nothing, like he'd done this for a thousand years. His expression softened. 

Antonio slowly felt his resolve to defy Rome slipping away, the weight of reality on his shoulders. He didn't regret dying. He'd do it a thousand times again if it meant Lovino would live, but he could never have imagined that this was death. “He can't even see me, he doesn't know I'm okay....How am I supposed to watch him like this?”

Rome heaved a weary sigh and turned his eyes to him. “The same way he will survive. Because you have no other choice. “

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Rome was right. No matter how painful it was to watch his lover shrink inside himself day by day, he couldn't ignore it. If it was the one thing he could do, he was going to stay with him. But God, it was painful. 

They were standing in front of Antonio's grave. A monument depicting the plight and strength of the Spanish people through the Civil War that ironically separated them had been erected in Madrid, the former capital of a country that no longer existed. Andalucia, Basque, and Catalonia had divided themselves in the land that used to be Spain. Three young Nations had emerged. Lovino refused to see any of them. He'd thrown an absolute fit when he saw the marble statue on the monument, a perfect replica of Antonio. How dare they try to immortalize him when they were the ones who destroyed him? How dare they even pretend they knew him? How dare Antonio try to pretend he was okay, when he became less of a Nation and more of an idea. Ideas can't take bullets, that fucking idiot. 

This grave wasn't in Madrid. Lovino had taken it upon himself to get Antonio a real headstone, or that was what he told himself. In all honesty, it was probably purely selfish. He just wanted something of him. It sat, peaceful and undisturbed, on the forested cliffs in coastal Rome, a simple grey headstone with only his name. Lovino clutched a carnation in his hands so tightly the stem gave in to the pressure and stained his hand with green. He opened his mouth to speak, but caught sight of the moss already growing along the bottom, and the words choked in his throat. With a shout of betrayed rage, he threw the carnation to the ground, turned on his heel, and sprinted through the trees.

Antonio watched, because that was really all he could do anymore, as Lovino ran right past him, feeling the wind of his speed move through him. Slowly turning his eyes away from the retreating Italian, he focused on the empty grave he left behind. He knelt before it, trembling fingertips reaching out to brush against the abandoned carnation. A light wind rustled the petals in place of his touch. 

Rome stepped up behind him, but as Antonio turned around to face him, he found that he was looking off in the direction Lovino had run in. Neither of them said a word. Nothing needed to be said. Nothing could be.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Lovino struggled to keep the phone in his grasp. “I'm just not up to dinner, tonight, alright Feli? Maybe later this week.... yes, for the last time I'm fine now-” His elbow shot forward and knocked over a glass of water on the coffee table, “fuck, I have to go.” He rushed in a hiss as he finally hung up and let the phone clatter forgotten to the ground. His body shook with every uncontrollable jerk of his right arm as he struggled to keep it still against him, his left hand holding onto it so hard he could feel the bruises forming. With each strangled noise forcing its way from his throat, he held it tighter and tighter, but the jerking only grew stronger. He hadn't had a Chorea fit in years, since he'd gotten it under control as a child and it only came out in times of stress, but lately, damnit, he couldn't keep it together. 

Antonio always helped him through these.

“Lovino, querido, you're holding your arm too tight, just relax.” Antonio murmured, kneeling before him on the couch of the Italian's loft, his hand running soothingly up and down his arm.

Rome stood behind him, his hand falling heavy but without physicality on his shoulder. “He cannot feel you.”

Antonio gritted his teeth and roughly shrugged the man's hand off. “I know.”

“Then who are you doing it for?” Rome asked, withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms over his chest. “Him or yourself?”

Antonio slowly let his hand fall back to his side. “He needs me. He was never good at dealing with this on his own. He was always independent, but this was the one thing he needed my help with, it's scary for him.”

“He has to learn...”

“Easy for you to say!” Antonio shouted, rising to his feet and turning sharply toward him. “You were never there, you left him to fend for himself and took Feliciano away!”

Rome stepped forward to meet him, snarling. “Don't you dare criticize me about how I raised my grandsons! I did what was best for the both of them!”

“You did what was best for yourself!”

“Enough!” Rome roared, his voice booming like that roar of a Lion on the Colosseum floor, and the air around them intensified. A pulse rippled through the puddle of water on the floor. Lovino looked up, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as he looked around the empty room. Both men watched as he searched the air with a name on his lips, before a furious jerk in his arm doubled him over. Rome's arms dropped to his sides, the glint of his Bronze armor casting invisible light onto Lovino's face. He took a breath that seemed to take all the air in the room with it. “Do you think this is easy for me? A thousand years I have watched him and his brother. My grandsons. It never gets easier.”

Antonio unclenched his fists. 

Rome crossed the room, his movements slow, sandals stepping through the spilt water without so much as a disturbance. Stopping in front of Lovino, who still struggled to still his arm, he patted his head with a gentleness hands that strong shouldn't possess. “You cannot shield him from this.” His voice was heavy with the implications; He knew, he'd tried. 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

God only know how long he'd been watching, but that was all he was doing. Time had become an object, something he could hold in his hand, something entirely separate and inconsequential to him, but something he could not control. He just drifted. 

Lovino stood not far away, bartering with a vendor over a bouquet of flowers. Antonio tried to stay a few feet back from him now; every time he tried to get closer, he could see how Lovino's spine would shiver and his eyes would water as if suddenly remembering the way he smelled, or the way he said his name. He wondered if it had been long enough to forget. 

Antonio would never forget him. What he was, whatever this existence was, wasn't quite himself anymore. It was impossible to explain, the sensation of having no sensations at all, but being totally aware of everything around him. He could see without sight, and feel without touch, and speak without a voice. But even without a being, the one thing he clung to was Lovino. As he stood gazing over the flowers in the cart, his hazel eyes were soft and clouded, and his lips were parted with the tip his tongue flicking out to lick them. His hands ghosted over the flower petals, pollen gathering on his fingertips. He was beautiful, and even as he sneezed and grumbled miserably under his breath, all Antonio could do was laugh and stare at the rise and fall of his chest with every thin breath. 

A glint of the sun catching Bronze and shining in his eyes caught Antonio's attention, and for the first time, he realized where they stood. Rome stood at the end of the path like he was taken straight out of history, a larger than life man standing before the larger than life Roman Forum. The sun flared between the pillars and illuminated his armor. Even if he couldn't see his face, he knew that he looked up at the ancient monument towering over them and heard the cheers of the bloodthirsty crowds inside, the chatter of his people in the streets, horse hooves hitting the filthy stone ground and by his own soul, he missed it. The longing stiffened his broad shoulders. 

“Yes, yes, thank you.” Lovino's voice cut straight through his reverie, calling him back to watch as he walked straight through his grandfather, who merely looked down at him in pity before taking one last glance of his legacy.

Antonio watched as Lovino walked toward him, huddled into his sweater and clutching a small bouquet of carnations in his fist. For a moment, he wanted to call out to him, because part of him still felt so real that he could reach out and touch him. But as he raised his hand, Lovino walked briskly through his palm without pause. Antonio turned to watch him breeze past, his heart in his throat. He hadn't tried it in so long now, but he couldn't help himself. He stumbled forward, reaching out and just barely touching his shoulder. “Lovino...”

Lovino froze, nearly tripping in mid step as a wind blew at his shoulder and whistled in his ear with a voice he must have imagined. So why was his heart racing? Why did his arms suddenly feel week and his feet feel like lead? He clenched his fists tighter around the stems of the carnations, his breath coming hot and thick in his chest as a shiver ran down his spine

Letting his hand fall back to his side, Antonio waited for a reaction, holding his nonexistent breath as Lovino's shoulders began to shake. In one swift movement, Lovino took off running down the street. Antonio cursed himself, getting ready to follow him, when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He didn't have to look behind him to know that Rome was watching him too. “Now. Now he needs you.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Lovino skidded to a stop at the edge of the cliff were Antonio's grave stone lay broken down and crumbled with age. 50 years. It had been 50 god damned years. He'd learned how to live without him, he'd survived, but fuck he still needed him. 

Out over the sea, a storm was rolling in, the water rolling and crashing with it. The wind blowing in was thick with mist and swirled around him, whistling past his ears like muted voices. His heart hammered in his chest, his entire body shaking and his chest heaving as he was suddenly overwhelmed with a longing he'd buried for so long. The carnations slipped from his fingers. A chocked sob tore from his throat, but as he bowed his head, a strong gust of wind carrying imagined voices whispered his name in his ears. “Lovino.”

He slowly unclenched his fists. 

Spinning around as if the wind was pushing him, Lovino faced the edge of the tree line, his heart going numb as he watched a figure emerge from the shadow and into the overcast light. It wasn't like seeing something right in front of you, but he was right there as clear as day. Bronze armor catching the setting sunlight through thick cloud cover, Rome stepped forward, the strong figure of his memory. Lovino knew he must be dreaming, he had to be imagining things, but that didn't stop him from hopping. He stumbled forward, 'Nonno' on the tip of his tongue, before he caught sight of another figure appearing from the shadow. 

Antonio moved into the light, the sun's last rays warming his skin. He looked at him with a sad and knowing smile, opening his arms to him with an unearthly grace. That was all it took, as simple as that, just Antonio standing right in front of him like nothing ever happened. Lovino was racing forward before he even realized he was moving, throwing himself against him. He didn't feel, but an energy crackled through the air where he rested his head against his chest that felt like nothing but his lover. Antonio slowly closed his arms around him, Rome laying his hand on his back as the Spaniard's lips pressed lovingly to his forehead. He could have been holding him for an eternity for all it meant to him, because for the first time since he'd died, both Lovino and Antonio got to say goodbye with the promise to never leave each other behind. 

In a single gust of wind, both Antonio and Rome disappeared, and Lovino sank to his knees. The carnation petals blew away, westward over the sea.


End file.
